The Ball
by Ceanen
Summary: A peek inside Draco's mind as a ball approaches at Hogwarts and all he can think about is Harry. Sort of stream-of-consciousness, DM/HP slash, no specific timeline, oneshot.


_What can I say? Draco's mind works faster than punctuation. I think it adds to the intensity of the story; hopefully you'll agree with me and it doesn't make you crazy instead. Hey, there's only one way for me to find out, and we all know what that is, right? Press that silly little button and make me oh so happy; you're too nice to make me beg._

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There's a ball. A stupid ball where stupid people ask stupid questions about dates and arranged friendships and who likes who and gossip about things that are so deep and fragile. And I don't think my insides will stop churning long enough for me to let myself think about who I wish I was going with, who I wish I was dancing with and tasting and smelling. Because there's no person in the world that I want like I want him, and I know that it's stupid and I'm not supposed to feel this way, but I think that's why it's so fierce and so dangerous and passionate. I know that things are not right in this world and the funny thing is that I don't even care because all I think about is him. And his eyelashes and his fingernails and the way he walks and what his dreams are and why he's so damned _perfect._ My body doesn't even belong to me anymore because all it sees is him. And I'm so jealous of the people that he calls friends, the people that get to see him laugh and his bravery and watch him hunch over while he does his homework and sit next to him at breakfast while he smiles that gorgeous smile about something that's not me. They don't understand… any of them, how precious a glance can be from those eyes. How I hunger for it and need it and hate myself for the shivers he sends through me and the aches that I bear because of it. Nobody knows and it is so good that way because in my head I can have him just to myself and in my head _he_ needs _me_. 

People ask me to go and I say no. I don't even care who they are or register their faces because there's only one face in my nights and when I close my eyes I just see _him_ and nobody else is alive. I try not to think that he's going with somebody else because I can't take that pain and why does a damn ball matter at all when I wither each day because he's in my blood and I can't get him out and life isn't right when he's not around me. And I don't even care if he mocks me because it means he's close and I know he notices that I'm not as cold as I should be and I know it confuses him but I can't pretend any more. I'm the best pretender but it's so hard when I lose my knees because I can hear his voice and I sweat so much in class because he's only two desks away and I can't eat and people notice and I've been sent to the hospital wing so many times but there's no potion for this. There's only him and that's the thing I can't have and I hate myself for the times I've cried in the dark about it because I don't cry and that's what he does to me. He makes me lose myself.

He's there on the dancefloor, with some girl and I couldn't care less who she is. All I can see is him, that silly lopsided grin ghosting his face and the cute way he looks confused because he doesn't know how to dance and the way he slightly bites his bottom lip because he's concentrating on not stepping on her foot. His hair is dark and standing up in all directions, which looks funny next to his crisp robes that hug his shoulders and a fancy collar that makes him look almost distinguished if it weren't for that hair… but that hair is what I love and what I long to put my fingers in. And I want to take off those glasses and throw them away and look straight into his green eyes while my hands play on his warm skin and my lips raise blushes. And I know I'm tall enough that his head would fit barely under my chin if I raise it just a bit and I can see his hands on her waist, they're a little rough from quidditch and stained with ink in a way that makes me want to lick each finger and taste his thoughts. And I know that he smells like leather and a little bit of smoke and sweat and grass and clouds, and I can feel his scent in my nose and in my heart and down in my stomach where it pools and grows hotter. And my hands are in fists as I feel on fire and my eyes seem to slide out of focus on everything but him, and soon I can see that he is all I want and all I need and I don't care what else is in the world.

And now I'm rushing towards him, barging through couples on the dance floor who yell at me but back away when they see the burning look on my face. And finally he sees me coming, and his eyes are widening and they look so deep and scared and it sears my heart and I'm burning for him. I grab a handful of the front of his robes and drag him away from his partner, off the floor, and his arms are waving behind him and he thinks I'm going to hit him, which would make me laugh if I wasn't so lost in that little piece of skin that I can feel under his chin. The wall seems miles away but I know that that's where I need to go, that that's where I can have him and press him into me and he won't be able to run away. And we're finally there and I slam his back up against it, press my palms on his hips as I slide them up his belly and his heaving chest and onto his shoulders and up his neck which is so soft and vulnerable. He's looking me straight in the eyes and I can't take the intensity of it and my power is draining and I'm coming undone. I can tell that he's having problems processing the look on my face and I'm so _hungry_ and his furrowed innocence makes me want him even more. His mouth is open in confusion and I can see his teeth and his tongue and his wet lips and it's so damned beautiful and so I kiss him. I kiss him like my last breath is now, and that I want to leave this world with my hands in his hair and my tongue tracing his mouth and his warmth seeping into me.

Oh, and his surprise is delicious. I can feel his gasp in my mouth, as he draws a panicked breath before his body realizes that he loves the feel of me and he slowly begins to welcome that change that will make him all mine. And his hands stop flapping and pushing me away and they start to grab at handfuls of my robes and pull me closer, and I can feel his heat and it makes me so crazed and melty but I hate the weakness and so I press harder, holding my body against his up against that wall that understands that I need to push myself closer and closer even though it might hurt a little because it would be the most exquisite hurt in the whole world. Because I can't get close enough, because every inch of our bodies that touches is just a small piece of what I need to have up against him and I don't have enough skin to touch all of him and I _need contact_. He tastes like flying and we are on fire and everything that was so hard finally seems right.

He's kissing me…. he's kissing me and I can tell that he _wants_ it. And my mind is so fractured because I'm full of him and bliss and confused that he's not fighting and wondering why I care about anything but his lips and his tongue. I can smell treacle tart and old parchment and sex on his skin and I feel like exploding because my body can't take this fever and everything is black and red and swirling. I don't care about anything else in the whole world, I don't care about anything that's not warm and pressing against me and wrapping it's arms around my back and making small _happy_ noises against my mouth. I don't care, I don't care…

But somebody cares. As I slip unwillingly back into consciousness and start to listen to things beyond that pounding in my ears I can hear people talking. Whispering, shocked, scandalized. And I can feel his hesitation and I know that he hears them too, I can feel the embarrassment start to creep into his face and I know with a pain that first miraculous moment has fled in the crunch of reality. Because I'm still me and he's still him and we're still standing in a room full of people and drinking each other as if nobody else existed and none of it makes _any_ sense. He pulls his lips away and though I understand I feel like my soul is being torn away from me and I'm gasping. But he grabs my collar and places his forehead against mine, oh and it's so sweet and I finally open my eyes to look at him and I'm looking straight into that green sea and I see my whole life reflected in it. And he's flushed and so sexy because he looks lost and happy and self-conscious, and he gives me a little smile that tears at my heart because I know exactly what it means and I know nobody can read his smiles like I can. I'm inspired by that honesty and I know that I'm the strong one that doesn't care about what people think, so I try to gather myself so I can figure out what the hell we're going to do and it's so hard because his warmth is still filling my brain and it doesn't seem to be working. I can't stop so I steal a small nibble on that lower lip that I've had memorized for so long, take a deep breath, and turn around to face the swimming faces. The ridiculousness of the situation hits me as I take in all the dropped jaws and blank stares, but I won't be letting anything dilute this perfect moment and I'm not going to ever be without him and I need to get him alone. I steal a sideways glance and can't help but marvel at the easy grace he carries in his ruffled look and I _cant stand _one more second so I hitch on my most demeaning glare and start right into the solid wall of people that surrounds us. They're all gaping fish as they part for us like I'm some sort of god and oh do I feel like one with his fingers in mine and his taste still in my mouth as I pull him along and dare anyone to say a word. I can feel the crowd press back against us as we pass and they start to talk and I can hear the words but I don't care because I just heard him say my name in a whisper and it's the most beautiful sound and there is nothing else.

And though chaos reigns in the hall we head outside into the peaceful snow, hot hands clasped like lifelines, and I finally learn that Harry Potter dreams of me.


End file.
